


Dichotomy

by leogrl19



Category: Ladykiller In a Bind
Genre: And pay homage, F/F, Had to write something, We have fun~, Which of course means messing these characters up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leogrl19/pseuds/leogrl19
Summary: The Hero isn’t as faultless as she thinks; The Princess, gets off, regardless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think, one of the most fun aspects of LKiaB, was the ironies/hypocrisies, interweaved into stereotypical titles. That, glaring, dissonance.
> 
> I don’t exactly know, where, on the timeline this bit would take place(It can be one of those ‘??’ moments), but I’m feeling it somewhere after the bath scene(but, before, the following night), when there was opportunity to discover…

* * *

 

She isn’t: ‘Innocent’.

_Thwack_

A resounding _slap_ (echoing through the room; echoing through her soul—and what the _fuck_  did _that_ even mean?)— **hard** ; flesh against flesh.

Introspection: Met with **Indifference**.

"Nng." The Hero’s breast  _stings_  red; nipple _thrumming_ in agony,

( _Exultation_ …)

"Where is this coming from?” Red hair—shifts; The Princess, tilts, her head in lazy inquiry(

—Never, _asks_ , **questions** ).

_Thwack_

The backside—

“Fuck!”

Before, she can answer(Does, the other, _want her_ to speak?);

“ _Hm~_?” A hoisted chin;

**_Violet_** eyes — **_Scrutiny_**.

The Hero, trembles. “I-I…” swallows, thick; _again_ :

Shakes her head.

A cruel, smirk. “While, I do realize, how _voracious_ , a _slut_ , you truly are; I also recognize the difference between masochism and penance.”

_Wince_.

Gentle fingers; caress, the swell of an abused breast.

“I’m.” Swallows. It’s not, _just_ , the _state_ she’s in, “I-I…” (It, **_is_** , because she has to **answer** —); _grit_ teeth. “…I’m just. Like him…”

(An _echo_ … )

“Who, dear?”

And, the glint in The Princess’ eye; the curve, to those lips(the **simple** _bullying_ )—lets her know, the other: Now; _slaps_ , with her words.

( ** _Demeans_** : **_discovery_**.)

Her jaw, locks. “The Prince.”

“Ah;” Gentle caresses; a finger, along the profile of her neck; before—hooking, to, the ring of her( _her?_ )collar. “Do you feel guilty?"

Wide eyes—

(She ( **Always** ), _speaks_ , what she's _stumbling_ to….)

“Then, you’re not like him.” Terse. A decisive _wrench_.

Withdrawn touch.

(Makes, **It** :

**_Fact_**.)

The Princess, looks down, from on high—

**Down** ; at the _piece of trash_ , that she is. And, The Hero, sees: _Something_.

Soft and dangerous…

(It, isn’t, **forgiveness**. It isn’t that _easy_.)

Still: “…sorry.”

A bowed head— _fleeing_ eyes;

(Doesn’t know, _what_ _for_ —

On this ship) **This** ; is the realest thing she’s _got_.

(Can’t put, **words** , _to_ it…

The **feeling** )Too _much_ , for six days.

“You don't have to apologize to me, dear; I know, exactly, what you are.”

( ** _Guilty_** —)

“An.” _Thwack_. “ _Incomparable_.” _Thwack_.

Silence.

The Hero groans( _pants_ — _wanting_ , to be **defined** ). _Bites_ it _back_ —the inside of a slapped cheek. “Y-You‘ve,” _recovers_ ; “never wanted to apologize?”

A nail, _pressed_ , into the edge of her collar. “I don’t approve of mediocrity.”

“…Even,” _gasps_ ; _fumbles_ , a few times—looks, _up_ , to _compensate_ , “in, yourself.”

Catches: A smile,

Silence.

(Thinks— ** _knows_** ; that’s, another, form of **control** ;

**Dominance**.)

Not, _having_ , to **answer**.

(Is, _that_ why she plays The **Game**? Plays: **People**?)

Hearts and Minds

—It’s **_addictive_** , isn’t it?

( **Control**.)

_Can’t help_ , the memory, of The Photographer:( _“Oh: You’re just like him.”_ )

“Worse.”

( _Wants_ to **_Win_**.)

The Princess, arcs, a brow. The Hero’s hands, ball, into _fists_. “ _Worse_ , than him.”

Her brother bought into this bullshit: Lying, politics, and manipulation. Maybe, it’s some kind of fucked up survival mechanism

—What’s _her_ **_excuse_**?

_Thwack_ :

_Slapped_  so hard, her teeth rattle.

“Did, that, get your attention?” **_Violet_** eyes; a harsh, _draw_ , of the leash. “In this room. Even your, _thoughts_ , are _mine_.”

The Hero, gapes(unable to look away—

Wonders: if that's her twisted brand of  **jealousy** );

Nods.

( **Feels** : through all the lives, infiltrated; trespassed; _marred_ —)

She’s never, **_touched_** , 

Hers.

( _What will it_ ** _take_** _, to_ ** _affect_** _you_ … _?_ )

Each night — a little bit _more_ ,

_More_ words: _More_ **understanding**.

Each, day, _excruciating_ ;

But: Night:

Her own **Game**.

(Can’t —  _distinguish_ , the two.)

“Oh honey…" doting fingers—and The Princess pulls her into an unyielding hug(she must appear, _lost_ ), “Don't think. Lose yourself to _simple_.” A kiss(She had no idea, she’d been **_craving_** ); returns, _hungrily_ (— **Control** ); as a lowered hand, grazes, her folds, ”Let me give that to you…"

The Hero, thinks: Of **repentance** , and **_Winning_** , and _subspace_ —

(What does that even,  _mean_ , anyway?)

_Squirms_ , despite herself.

(It feels:  ** _Cathartic_** ….

**Reciprocal**.)

_Nods_

_(Lets_ , her.)


End file.
